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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560870">And they twain shall be one silk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Mischief/pseuds/Azure_Mischief'>Azure_Mischief</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann, The Nutcracker Prince (1990)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Barbie Doll &amp; Ken Doll Anatomy, Drosselmeyer - Freeform, Droßelmeier - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Love, Magic, Married Couple, Married Life, Partly POV, fictional anatomy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:34:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Mischief/pseuds/Azure_Mischief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost like "...shall be one flesh", only the magical way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christian Elias Drosselmeyer/Martha Drosselmeyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And they twain shall be one silk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="https://www.deviantart.com/azure-mischief/art/Wake-Up-Weide-769208640">/Please please please see this piece first!</a>
</p><p> </p><p>Not only I think of the magical Godpapa as being partly a toy (and probably hence not being able to save Nutcracker by himself), I think his wife Martha used to be a doll. Even moreso: <strong>the Doll</strong>, from another tale of Hoffmann's. (Try to guess which one it can be if you want, that's only so much I can reveal for now. ;)) What happened to them both, turned them into part dolls and part humans - dolls enough to have a Barbie (or Ken) anatomy and magic within, and humans enough for the rest of the humans to not even notice anything strange.</p><p>The fic is related to a bigger one I still can't get to finish -_-", a prequel and Drosselmeyer (and Martha)'s history.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>("Do you agree to become the same as her?", they asked him. "We won't be able to get you back to life otherwise. That's the price of life you will return back to."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So be it", he replied without a second thought. "I'm needed where I'm from. My family is missing me. I love them.")</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He never takes a white kerchief off his head, even when no one else but Martha is watching. It was enough for her to watch how long it took the skin in there to heal - "and you'll just plain turn away from me without the kerchief", he says with a sad smile. To which Martha just gently lowers his head onto her shoulder and softly strokes it - just like she used to do long time ago, back when he was all covered in bandages. "How could I, Weide- how could you even <em>think</em> of that, you silly little Weide..."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>("This little mirror is all I've got", she said back <strong>in there</strong>. "Take it, I won't mind; close his wound.")</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her reflection in a mirror miraculously built into his chest now looks even more beautiful, surrounded by golden sparkles of magic; and the mirror itself seems to be the part of <em>that </em>world again, almost inviting to stretch out a hand into it.</p><p>The burn spared only eyebrows and the left eye on his face. Martha gently traces her finger along her husband's right eyelid - now forever sealed with a white (once horribly crimson) scar across it, - and remembers how, many years ago, Christian used to look at her like that, except for with his <em>both</em> eyes. He did not see her ruined - nearly melted - waxen face, or her once-pretty dress, now worn to shreds, or her broken little legs; only her sheer fear because her memory was no longer clouded by whatever dark and sinister had been holding it, and her plea for the stranger to spare and repair her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>("Go and live now, children; love one another and be loved", they both were told <strong>back then</strong>. "Blessed shall be your union on the earth. And you twain <strong>shall be one silk</strong>."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Silk and magic, of which she was partly made, - that's what, also partly, was becoming her loved one's body on her watch. Any words for it could be too tender and vulnerable to last long on earth - but not their looks, still keeping memory about those moments; and not their embraces, saying <strong>"of the same nature"</strong> better than any words.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her skin forever remained slightly resembling wax since then; his, once pearly pink, now seemed to be covered with thin golden threads: scars that left from the healed wounds, and the fiery, liquid magic glowing through them.</p><p>And her reflection glows in this gorgeous living frame. A <strong><em>"My Martha"</em></strong>, clear enough without words and meaning the same as <strong><em>"my heart"</em></strong>. How Martha can even turn away from him, if his white kerchief, his fire-dried bony face, his body, lashed by fire, are no less dear to her than silk and magic. <strong><em>"My Christian"</em></strong>, she replies, also without words, gently framing her love's face with her hands. <em>"Look at you with <strong>my</strong> eyes, Christian."</em></p><p> </p><p>White batiste of his shirt, so much resembling warm snow she wants to bury her face into it; pink pearl, silk and wax, open to the eye and inviting to admire them like this. Just as still as they were in the moment of <em>that</em> blessing. The two are one silk. One soul, now looking at itself from the two bodies.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em>"Martl!!!"</em>
</p><p>at her watch — there at <em>the unknown's</em> — i had <em>a full pitcher</em> of some fiery glowing drink — who knew it was magic <em>and it was alive</em> — martha is half made of it herself — and what is she doing now that we're back here on earth many days later — her palm right on my-</p><p> </p><p>" ...well, your <em>stomach</em> hadn't been burned — had it?"</p><p>she purrs as her hand lies just above the seam at my waist where i am of silk and beneath it i myself can't believe it — there's a glow <em>g a t h e r i n g</em> — i <em>glow </em>i had no idea i can do that</p><p> </p><p>"...do you love it?"</p><p>as if it's not <em>me</em> who remembers <em>the unknown's</em> realm — it's magic <em>remembering <strong>with</strong> me </em>— of course i love it it's just strange why it has to be like <em>that</em>-</p><p>her own — wakes up when i gently touch her back — over the seam under her shoulder blades — it flares up and unfolds outward taking the shape of light wings but why does mine <em>whenevermarthasomuchasBRUSHESmymiddle</em> only glows pink and gold and burns — me — never hurting just taking by surprise every time and a little embarrassing me — i laugh and my face feels hot</p><p> </p><p>"...it's like a dawn on your face…"</p><p>why am i even embarrassed it's martha at whose watch i changed my shape — <em>accepting her very n a t u r e </em>—</p><p>like her affection now</p><p>is her palm so cool or i feel that feverish</p><p> </p><p>"...you laugh so warmly, love…"</p><p>pink and gold glow fills the alcove — <em>my glow</em> and laughter — <em>the unknown one</em> knew what she was doing giving us her gift</p><p> </p><p>it's not <em>magic laughing <strong>with</strong> me</em><br/>but <em>i</em><br/>laugh<br/><em>because martha is<br/>happy</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Christian Elias Drosselmeyer (C) E. T. A. Hoffmann (character) and Lacewood Productions (appearance in both my fanarts and fics).<br/>Martha Drosselmeyer (c) S. A. D. Theater / C. D. A. (Community of Drama Artists)'s character for "Nutcracker: Steampunk"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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